


The Eleventh Sons

by TriDom



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon Hunters, Demons, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hunter!Chris, Hunter!Stiles, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Pre-Stargent, magical au, magical!Chris, magical!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 17:12:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18578917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriDom/pseuds/TriDom
Summary: In a world of Light, Gray, and Dark magic, Chris was the most renown Demon Hunter in the country, but that was years ago. Now, he trains hunting dogs as familiars for his peers still in the field. He doesn't take on apprentices for demonology unless bound by blood or if given a deal he can't refuse.When the most notable Witch Hunter of the last century asks Chris to take on his son for his seventh and final year of training, Chris accepts. If he can help shape a hunter half as good as John out of Stiles maybe it will go a fraction of the way to cleansing his own sins.





	The Eleventh Sons

**Author's Note:**

> ** When a dog's eyes change colors for a witch in this story it has significance, because these animals are familiars **

The clinking of ice in Chris’s glass was loud in his cabin. He chewed whiskey-covered cubes before he took a drag from his cigarette, staring at the window in front of his desk. It made the smoke cold as the canvas curtains were being painted from behind with day break. 

Mikial laid by his open bedroom door. Her eyes were closed, but her ears were perked with one of her paws curled beneath her chest. 

On the desk in front of him, a needle and thread laid on a freshly sown page of vellum in a tome. New pages were mixed with writings from generations before, every page dated with the hunter’s name written in the corner. 

Nearly every page had his mother’s surname on it. The same name he had taken for himself. 

Argent.

He continued smoking his short cigarette rolled with his blend of herbs. His mind felt as warm as his chest as he poured himself another thin layer of whiskey. Around the globe, thousands of hunters were watching the sky turn navy from black. Chris watched it until he reached the bottom of his glass again. 

When he moved his chair, Mikial watched Chris move to the bed. When the hound saw that was all he was doing, she laid her head back on her paws again with a quiet groan. Down the hall, in the living room, one of Mikael's brother’s toenails clicked on the thin wood planks. 

Chris stripped off his clothes and reached for his lamp before stopping. He put his back to the light, but left it on as true dawn began to leach into the windows. 

Before he fell asleep, he heard Mikial snoring quietly as the vigile of night passed. 

 

That afternoon, Chris sat in the living room. The draft through the open screen door to his left and open window to his right ruffled the pages of the book as the sky grew more gray outside. 

Mikial and her brothers slept on the porch. Chris could see them sprawled on the wood in their post-breakfast stupor. The grayest of the brothers’ ears twitched as he slept. Chris turned a page. The quiet rattle of the screen in the window mixed with it as he rocked slightly in his chair. The old hardwoods barely made a noise, but it was quiet enough for years that he knew every sound. 

The jarring of bones and the scratch of dog nails on the porch broke the silence as Chris felt a tremor pass up his spine. A vision of a black SUV turning onto the narrow dirt path to his house flashed in his sight before he saw Torq follow Nic down the stairs at a run. Mikial went down the stairs and stayed beside them, glancing back at the door. Nearly a minute later, Chris heard the motor the SUV he had seen in his mind’s eyes. 

Chris took the pistol from the table put it in the holster hidden in the band of his jeans. The screen door clacked behind him as a black SUV came from the wood-lined driveway. Nic and Torq barked, their ears back, and their eyes white. 

Chris went toward the small SUV with Mikial in front of him. Her brothers were flecking the glossy dark paint of the driver’s side door with saliva. 

“Down,” Chris said. 

They stepped backward until the three of them were in a half-circle beside him. 

“You can get out. They’re fine,” Chris said. 

The driver’s side door unclicked before a young brown-haired man stepped out. He watched the dogs, closing his door without taking his eyes off them. 

“Don’t look in their eyes,” Chris said. 

The man looked up from Mikial to Chris. He wore the black utility jacket of a hunter with the Stilinski sigil on his shoulders. Beneath that was the dark blue badge that showed he was in his seventh and final year of apprenticeship. 

Chris held out his hand. “Chris Argent.” 

“It’s an honor,” he said. “Stiles Stilinski.” 

“I’ve had nothing but good reviews from your mentors.” 

“Good. I’m glad they reached you before I did.” 

Nic sniffed Stiles’s jeans. Stiles had the sense to stand still while he did it. 

“How’s your dad?” Chris asked. 

“He’s fine. Still doing what he always has.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Chris said, before he looked up at the gathering clouds. “Let’s get your bags in.” 

Chris followed Stiles to the rear of the SUV with the two lead dogs sniffing Stiles’s legs while his back was turned. He kept walking, pretending he didn’t notice the tapping of their noses against his calves. 

Stiles passed Chris a few bags and he carried them into the cabin while Stiles grabbed the rest of his things. Stiles followed him into the living room, then down the hall to a second bedroom. It was a decent-sized, but the largest wall was taken up by a bookcase. 

“That’s a view,” Stiles said, looking out the window by the bed. “I’d only been this far north a few times. The drive up was beautiful.” 

“It’s pretty country,” Chris said. “I’ll leave you to get settled in. If you need anything, I’ll be down at the kennel.” 

“Okay. Thanks.” 

Chris left John Stilinski’s son in his house with Nic and Torq lingering behind while Mikial followed Chris back out of the cabin to the kennels across the yard attached to acres of fenced property. 

A few of the dogs barked as they came to their sectioned kennels. Chris went into each outdoor kennel, checking that the fencing was intact and the doors to the barn wasn’t stuck so the dogs could get out of the rain. High and low content dogs let him pet them, some demanding and others licking slightly before being content enough just to follow him around their pens. 

Inside the barn, at the very back, were kennels that didn’t have large outdoor runs. Chris checked on a female brought to him by a witch hunter. She wagged her tail while he petted her long hound ears. As he slid his hand over her swollen stomach, he felt the slight lumps of her pups. He would have to come out in a few hours to check her again, although the tightling in his fingers and at the base of his skull said her liter would be born tomorrow night. 

The injured dogs brought to him by hunters were doing well. The three he had would soon be picked up by their hunters, freeing up kennels for him to take on more. 

The last kennel held his only pit dog. Chris took a scoop of dog food and opened the kennel door. The large black dog backed up to let him in. His small brown eyes were nearly lost in his dark face. 

Chris crouched and took the dog’s massive head in his hands. The high-content of his blood pulsed along Chris’s arms. When the dog panted, it smelled like the rich soil of fresh graves. 

“You’ve been cooped up,” Chris said, stroking his thumb along the dog’s loose-skinned face. “If the rain lets up this evening I’ll let you run in the big pen.” 

The dog licked his face. Mikial growled quietly at the gate. 

Chris scratched the dog behind his large pointed ears before he poured the food into his bowl. The dog ignored it and leaned into Chris’s touch. After a few minutes, Chris patted the dog on his cheek and left the kennel. As he left the barn, he could hear the dog eating. 

He was the first dog sent from the pit in over seven years. The last had gone to a demon hunter who was no longer of this world. 

Chris exhaled a pent breath that another day had passed and the dog’s eyes hadn’t turned to fire for him. 

 

Only a handful of moments after the back door clattered behind him, rain began to titter on the tin roof. Chris closed the window in the living room and went to check the others. Stiles’s bedroom door was open. He was reading a book from the shelf across from his bed. As he read, he scratched his mole-covered cheek. 

“There’s a study you can use too,” Chris said. 

Stiles jumped then laughed slightly. “I didn’t hear you over the rain.” 

“Sorry,” Chris said. Then he nodded toward the shelf. “Those are the books I use less often. The ones in my study are better.” 

“Cool,” Stiles said. “Peter didn’t have much of a library.” 

“I’m surprised Peter keeps a library at all,” he said. “Are you hungry?” 

Stiles nodded. “Do you want me to cook?” 

“No I will,” he said. “Are sandwich okay?” 

“Sounds great.” 

Chris went back down the hall, through the living room and into the kitchen. 

The bed squeaked behind him then he heard Stiles’s footsteps on the floor behind him. It was followed by the click of dog nails. Chris opened the fridge in the small kitchen off the living room and heard Stiles take a seat on the metal bar stool. 

“So am I going to have a procession the whole time I’m here?” Stiles asked. 

Chris glanced back at Nic sitting a few feet from Stiles, staring at him. 

“Take it as a compliment. They barely paid attention to the last apprentice I had.” 

“I didn’t think you took apprentices.” 

“He was a cousin. I was obligated.” 

“And me?” 

“Your dad wouldn’t give me any of his hound’s blood without signing off on the deal to finish your training,” Chris said. 

Stiles smiled slightly. It looked like John’s. Even the way they held themselves was similar. If the boy turned out to be an eighth the hunter his father was then Chris wouldn’t be wasting his time. 

“Dad’s always been good at deals.” 

“I know. I’m surprised he didn’t go for demons.” 

“He’s good at it. That doesn’t mean he likes doing it,” Stiles said. 

“Fiar. Ham or turkey?” 

Stiles answered his questions about sandwiches preferences, then he stood at the counter and ate his own while Stiles ate at the bar opposite him. When they finished, Nic was still sitting behind him, staring. Torq was lying near Nic doing the same. 

When they finished, Chris rinsed their plates and Stiles stared out of the windows. Rain streamed down the old panes. He could just make out the kennels in the distance. 

“Of course it would rain as soon as I get here. I was hoping to see the dogs,” Stiles said. 

“The weather will be good tomorrow.” 

Tomorrow the sky would be gray, but no rain would fall. He knew it the same way he knew that he would fall asleep just as the rain was stopping as night faded into morning in less than twelve hours. 

“I’m going to do some reading. You can settle in your room, watch TV, or whatever you’d like.” 

“Can I come with you?”

Chris nodded and flipped off the light in the kitchen. When the sun obscured outside, it made the living room full of shadows as Chris went down the hallway toward the back of the house. His study took up the back half of the small cabin. 

He turned on the single overhead light, then turned on a few lamps as Stiles stood in the doorway. Then he passed the shelves closest to him slowly. 

Chris picked up the open book beside his preferred chair. Mikial laid on his feet at an angle so she could watch Stiles. 

“Do you care what I read?” Stiles asked. 

“As long as you don’t try to do anything you read, I don’t,” he said. 

“I’m not that stupid,” Stiles said, taking out one of the newer tomes and staring at the cover. “I’ve only heard of most of these books. Even Averet didn’t have them.” 

“Averet doesn’t seem to understand that when you’re nice to people, they’re more likely to give you things or at least let you make copies,” Chris said. 

Stiles laughed, brushing his hand over the cover. “That’s no shit,” he said. “That was the longest six months of my life.” 

“Only six?” 

Stiles nodded. “I was able to write an appeal. I live with the best witch hunter born in the last sixty years.” 

“That’s true,” Chris said. “Who did you study vampyrism with?” 

“Claudwell,” Stiles said. 

“Good choice.” 

“She was a good teacher.” 

“Sprites and fairies?” 

“Goodsmith.” 

Chris nodded. “And Bernson for dragons?” 

“You guessed it,” Stiles said. 

“Who else have you had?” 

Stiles picked up a few other books, sliding them gently back into place as he talked about some of the most prominent hunters in the last century. Being John Stilinski’s son hadn’t afforded him some possibilities, it had given him all of them. 

“I didn’t know Hegvel was teaching about magical creatures anymore,” Chris said. 

“She’s not,” Stiles said, with a smile that was just the slightest bit arrogant. 

From the letters Chris had been sent with John’s recall of their arrangement, it didn’t surprise him. He’d received nothing but glowing recommendation from the masters who had taught him. The recommendation from Hale hadn’t just been glowing, it had bordered on obscene like the leg humping curr he was. He couldn’t deny that the boy was almost ethereally beautiful, though. 

“What path are you leaning toward?” Chris asked. 

Stiles sat in the chair near Chris’s with a book in his hands. “Witches.” 

“Not inclined to any of the others?” 

“Not enough. I’m eleventh generation.” 

“My mother was a tenth generation witch hunter too.” 

Stiles smiled slightly. “Then maybe you can change my mind, but I doubt it. I’ve known this is what I wanted since I was a kid. Seeing the other paths has just confirmed it.” 

“No love for werewolves or vampires?” 

“Werewolves were interesting, but without being a werewolf, it seems like a death wish. I can’t stand being near vampires, even the good ones.” 

“None of them are good. Just good enough to avoid a stake.” 

“Exactly,” Stiles said. “Then demons hunters,” he said, looking at Chris. “You don’t have the best longevity.” 

“We don’t.” 

“I could read about it all day, but,” Stiles shook his head. “You hunted the things that everything else stems from. The wolves come from demons, the witches make pacts with them, the vampires, all of it.” 

“It wasn’t harder than hunting werewolves.” 

“As a human or as a werewolf?” 

“As a human.” 

Stiles laughed again. “That’s a suicide pact between you and fate.” 

Chris smiled slightly. 

“Dark witches aren’t easy either, but at least we’re even.” 

“That’s why I couldn’t,” Chris said. “I couldn’t do what Hale does either. It’s only a difference in family and training that makes us ourselves and them what they are. Just because we’re called hunter doesn’t make us any less of a witch,” he said. Then he nodded toward Mikial. “We even have familiars like them. Ours are just respected.” 

“We get ours from the Light.” 

“I’ve breed a good number of dogs from the Gray. I have a dog in the kennel of the Dark.” 

Stiles shrugged slightly. 

“It’s hypocrisy, but the world’s a better place with us in it. The witches my family hunts, it’ll be a better place without them.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Stiles started to turn the pages of the book again and Chris thumbed through his own. He heard the pages of Stiles’s book stop turning a few moments before Stiles spoke again. 

“Why do you have a dog from the Dark?” 

“He was a welp put in with one of my liters. When the liter was born, there were five. The next morning, there was a sixth. The Key Keeper will send one up every few years if too many demons have crossed the veil.” 

“Does that mean you’re out of retirement?” Stiles asked. 

“I’ll be told if it is.” 

“Do you know what region of the underworld he’s from?” 

“The Pit.” 

“Shit.” 

Chris hummed an agreement. 

“Will I get to see him?” 

“You’ll be helping me keep up the kennels. I don’t have time to train someone if I don’t have help keeping up the dogs.” 

“Fair.” 

“We don’t sleep at night. I don’t know if Peter had you on that schedule or not, but we’ll be doing most of your training in the evening and night.” 

Stiles smiled slightly. “You sound like Dad.” 

“You’ll get that way. You hunt things in the dark enough and you don’t want to sleep during it anymore,” Chris said. “Even with a pack in the house.” 

“Did you breed them?” Stiles asked, looking at Mikial. 

Chris shook his head. “About a month after my last hunt, when I knew I wouldn’t be hunting again, I woke up at three in the morning with three pups asleep in my bed.” 

“So the Light gave you pass on hunting anymore.” 

“The Gray did. My patron is Athreis.” Chris reached down and scratching behind Mikial’s ear. 

“Why?” 

“You’d have to ask her,” he said. “I’ve felt the… pressure of sharing my soul with a demon. I’ve past a night holding my own intestines in, feeling my own pulse against my hand, until morning light when she healed me with the dawn mist. I brought every monster back to her that she wanted despite what it cost me. I always prayed that she would let me know when I had finished my duty and when I couldn’t go on anymore, she did.” 

Stiles held his spot in his book his finger as he looked at him. Chris cleared his throat and looked down at his own pages again. He hadn’t spoken to someone in person, aside from hunters leaving dogs with him, for months. It was showing. 

“So your last hunt. That’s what got you.” 

Chris nodded, flicking a page. 

“The last apprentice I trained before I retired called me while she was on a hunt. I went. When I walked into her apartment, meat was covering the walls. The smell was something you can’t comprehend. When I opened the door, pieces of it slid down and took paint with it. She was sitting in a kitchen chair in the middle of the living room with flies crawling all over her face. Her wrists were slit. I could see the bones of her forearm. 

“I thought she was dead, so I started to look for clues as to who possessed her. Books were all over her living room. She’d drawn sigils all over, but whoever the demon was, it hadn’t phased them. 

“I had been in the apartment for at least fifteen minutes when I heard movement. I turned around and she was standing there like her legs were broken. Maggots were coming out of her eyes and mouth. 

“When she started to talk, I shot her. I emptied my clip into head until there was nothing left. I had been her mentor for five years. Brought her into my house after she lost her family. I still wouldn’t have recognized her.” 

“Shit,” Stiles said after a moment. “I’m sorry.” 

“We don’t have longevity.” 

“Still,” he said, his voice quivering slightly before he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I asked. I’m sorry you had to do that. Peter said you just met too many demons of gluttony.” 

Chris laughed slightly. “Peter would think so.” 

“He can say whatever he wants. He’s just jealous,” Stiles said. “I might not want to be a demon hunter, but I want to learn under you. I’ve been looking forward to it for years.” 

“You’re going to be sorely disappointed.” 

“I doubt that.” 

Chris smiled weakly before he stood up with his book. “I’m going to my room. Try to stay awake until the sun rises.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Chris nodded as he left his study. Mikial follow him to his room and Nic passed them, going to lay where Mikial had at the doorway of the study. 

 

 

At nearly three, Chris went out to the back porch. Rain was still falling, turning the yard to mud, but the thunder and lightning had slacked. Inside, he could feel the quiet presence of Stiles’s cardiac rhythm as he slept. When he had passed his door, he had considered knocking, but they had a year. Stiles would get on the nocturnal schedule soon.

With the patter of the rain against the metal roof, Chris had even been tempted to sleep in the warm glow of the lamp beside his bed. Then Allison’s pale face had crept in like they hadn’t done for years. She had said one word before he killed her. His name. 

He took a long drag of his cigarette. 

Feeling someone else’s soul in his house was strange. He didn’t keep company. Only a handful people had seen the inside of his home. It tugged at a place in his mind that was almost unsettling. 

Then one of the dogs in the kennel howled. 

Chris took another drag of his cigarette and looked toward the barn. The rain was coming down heavily enough that the light on in the barn looked dim. 

The dog howled again and the hair on the back of Chris’s neck raised. 

Chris listened to the dog howl two more times before he put snubbed his cigarette out and stepped out into the rain. It matted his cap to his head before he reached the mouth of the barn. The howling was louder. Deep. 

Chris pushed open the wet metal handle. 

Chain link was rattling. As he came around the corner, he saw the metal frame of the pit dog’s kennel quaking. The wires were crimped and bent. The dog was pulling at the links with his weight thrown onto his back legs and his front paws planted on the ground. 

Chris looked around the kennel. His skin was tingling sharper. It was almost painful. He pulled the pistol from the holster in his band of his jeans. The dog reacted to demons. Chris had more wards on his property than any other in the country, but he would put nothing past the entities he once hunted. 

He unlatched the kennel of the pit dog and the massive animal shoved his way through the gate. His tail curled as his hackles rose. He sniffed the dirt floor of the barn before he went back the way Chris had come. Chris kept his pistol out as they went back into the rain. Thunder rumbled above before lightening radiated through the clouds lighting up the yard. Chris scanned the trees, but saw nothing. 

The dog didn’t hesitate. He shot straight to the back porch. Chris’s heart was beginning to pound. 

He hadn’t tested Stiles. 

A demon shouldn’t be able to get through his barriers. It hadn’t occurred to him to test him for possession. He had come from Peter. Peter would have known if he was possessed. 

Chris ran faster, trying to catch the dog before he got inside. The back door never latched well unless he pulled it to. He couldn’t remember if he had. He usually didn’t when he went out for a smoke. 

Before he reached the stairs, the dog slammed into the back door. It flew open under his weight, hitting the wall with a bang. 

He would never be able to explain to John Stilinski how his son had been killed by a dog from the Pit on his first night in Chris’s home. 

There were huge muddy paw prints on the wood in the living room when Chris ran inside. One of his dogs was growling. The others were running from back in the house. The paw prints were heading straight to Stiles’s room. 

Then Chris heard him scream. 

“Get the fuck off me!” 

“Stiles!” Chris called, nearly falling on the mud tracked in by the massive dog as he stepped into his room and turned on the light. 

The dog was standing over Stiles on the narrow bed. Chris aimed his pistol at the dog. Stiles was breathing hard beneath the dog, staring up at it like a fawn. 

“Are you possessed?” Chris asked, not taking his eyes off the dog. 

“No!” Stiles said. “I swear on my dad’s fucking life, Chris! Get him off me. I swear.” 

The dog’s hackles were lowering. It made him look more like a dog instead of a bear. Chris moved slightly closer, going to grab the dog’s scruff. Then its eyes turned to fire. Chris lowered his pistol as he sank back against the bookshelf. 

He watched as the eleventh generation of the Stilinski witch hunting clan’s eyes turned to flames before Stiles yelled even louder. Chris held on to the shelf behind him as he heard every idea the young man had for himself be ripped away and his nightmare became real. 

The dog on top of him wagged its tail.

**Author's Note:**

> For now this is a stand alone. I have more I may add to it in the future, but I like it as a stand alone at the moment. However, subscribe to it if you'd be interested in more, because there's a GOOD chance I'll add to this after I get some other things finished. 
> 
> Btw, I have another fic in the works that has Chris/Stiles with Chris as Stiles's teacher in a magical AU coming up. I love both stories and may end up just going with, but we'll see. Lol
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this one!


End file.
